


The Way You Did Once

by MiniMoffat



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniMoffat/pseuds/MiniMoffat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alayne has a breakdown when Sandor Clegane comes to the Eyrie after his time on the Quiet Isle. Implications of Petyr/Sansa. Based off of Lana Del Ray's cover of Once Upon A Dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way You Did Once

_                     I know you, I walked with you  
                           o n c e  u p o n  a  d r e a m._

    Alayne paced through the halls of her home, a sudden longing she hadn't felt in so long. A yearning inside of her, causing the clock inside of her mind to begin ticking-- and oh, was it such a distracting sound. Biting down on her lower lip, she could taste a hint of metallic, though she didn't pay it any heed. It was that name that kept running through her head. Sansa Stark was dead-- she had been dead for so long that she could hardly remember that girl anymore. Her memories had become something so far away that she could hardly reach them anymore, and suddenly, with a harsh voice, they came flooding back to her as if that little girl had been dug from the grave.

_                                  I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a g l e a m ._

    The girl had pinned herself to the wall, not daring to move. It seemed almost poetic, truly-- a knight who had been thought dead, a highborn who had escaped from the world, presumed dead by all those who had known her. It was like one of those fairytales Sansa had used to love, but Alayne had known better-- she had learned that those were only cleverly hid lies, their words bending and breaking young girls. The woman ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath. She had fooled so many people, even those who had met with her Lord Father and had visited Winterfell when Sansa had been a child. There shouldn't have been panic-- that emotion had subsided so long ago. Still, as she peered around the corner, taking note of the scars that plagued the man's face, she could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

    "Alayne," The girl turned her head, blinking a couple times. "Our guest has come from far away," A servant insisted, "He might care for the water," Her hands gripped around the skin of water she was to bring to him, though she put on one of the false smiles that had been drilled into her mind during her lessons.  _Yes. I am not Sansa Stark. I am Alayne, who else would I be?_ She asked herself, forcing her feet to move on the marble. She could almost hear Lord Baelish inside of her mind, encouraging her and telling her that Sandor would not notice. Like Lord Baelish, he always noticed her, though. How could he be certain?

    "Your skin of water, Ser," She see his mouth twitch, her eyes locked on the marred skin that once had frightened a little girl terribly. He took the skin, taking a sip long enough for her to believe she was safe. Turning on her heel, Alayne made for her father's solar to alert him of their guest.  _No. He already knows by now._ A hand grasped at her arm-- not rough, but enough to make her jump slightly. She glanced back towards the man, eyes finally meeting his.

_                  And I know it's true,  
                                                      that visions are seldom what they seem._

    "I am no knight," Her teeth clenched and brows pulled together, but Alayne forced a nod, hurrying around the corner once more as another servant showed him to a room to rest for the night. Her body pressed against a wall once more, her hand moving to clasp at her chest, heart beating loudly inside of her head. She could hear them-- him and the young girl speaking. She could hear him yelling at the King, she could hear him telling her it was alright, even though she still cried. She remembered how his hand had brought her comfort when the men had come for her during the riot. She could remember the feeling of his lips against hers.  _She could remember she was the last of the Starks._

_                                                             But if I know you,  
                                                             I know what you'll do,_

    He was to remain for a night-- learning that something he had been looking for was not there. What it was he was looking for, she wasn't sure. Still, Sansa shifted in her bed, her heart still unable to keep from pounding heavily inside of her mind.  _It was me._ She told herself, the fairytale life she had always wanted getting the best of her.  _He was looking for me._ What else would he have been doing there? It was no secret that her aunt had lived in the Eyrie, nor was it a secret she had met an unpleasant ending. She tried to close her eyes, tried to force these thoughts away-- the thoughts of Winterfell, of the home she had given up on. She could stay here, she could be happy with Lord Baelish. He only knew what was best for her.

    But Sansa had come into power once more. Slipping on a sleep shift, she hurried along the marble. She hadn't realized how early it was-- she could see the sky breaking through the windows. If she didn't act quick, she would lose him once more. Sandor would be gone from her grasp and she would never make it home. It was clear now-- he would be the only one who could save him. Upon reaching her father's chambers, she slipped in quietly, though still he stirred until he saw her. He took no mind of it-- it was their little secret. He moved over to make room for her, still half asleep. Sansa curled up next to him, bringing her fingers to run along Lord Baelish's jawline.

    "Thank you," Her voice came out as a whisper, and Petyr only groaned slightly. It was sincere-- she appreciated all of the things he had taught her. She knew she would need them. Her lips moved to kiss the other on the forehead, her hand reaching behind her to grasp the small knife she had concealed under her shift. It was easy-- far easier than she would have liked, in truth. It slipped into his skin like butter and she watched as his eyes jolted open, staring at her in shock. Sansa's hands began to shake, pulling the blade out and shoving it back in immediately. She was not his daughter, nor should she have ever agreed to go with him. It was Sandor she should have gone with, she realized that now. She couldn't stop herself anymore-- the blade went in and out over and over again. The Stark hadn't even realized that she had begun to cry in the process.

    She stood from the bed, the shift covered in blood. Her hands shook and she dropped the knife at her feet. She could hear the sound of the servants moving outside, clearing the freshly fallen snow from the path. They would be done soon, she realized that. Sandor would be leaving soon. Sansa hurried to the dead man's wardrobe, throwing the blood soaked shift on the ground and pulling on one of his tunics and a pair of trousers-- having to tie the trousers with a rope to keep them from slipping. Everything she pulled on was too big, but there was no time to return to her room. She would have better clothes waiting for her at home-- yes, her room would still be waiting for her with all the things she was unable to bring to King's Landing.

    His cape was the last thing she adorned. Sansa hurried through the halls, the sound of his boots clicking against the marble. One servant tried to stop her, but Alayne had only laughed, insisting that she had to to see one of the cooks. They would try to awaken Lord Baelish soon. There was a wave of relief that filled her-- the dye was nearly gone now, a few shades of a darker brown than her normal auburn hair. If she continued to clean it, soon they would be unable to recognize Alayne Stone. Petyr Baelish's murderer would be gone. The wind was howling as she stepped outside, pulling the loose fabrics every which way as it shifted. Her hand moved to cover her eyes and she trudged through the snow. He would have left by now, she was certain. Her pace quickly turned into a run, hurrying in the only direction he could have gone. It was only a few minutes later that she saw the large man and his dark horse, working on their descent.

    "Sandor!" She screamed, though it seemed he couldn't quite hear her. She continued to hurry after him and she could feel the tears threatening to freeze onto her skin, but she refused to stop. There was nothing that would make her turn back now. "Sandor!" And there it was-- a glance over his shoulder. She stopped for a moment as he brought his horse to a halt, only to have her running towards him once more. Stranger let out a protest to the person running from behind, but Sandor merely barked an order towards the animal. She came to a stop next to him and she couldn't stop the tears from running down her cheeks. "I want to go home," She insisted, " _Please. I want to go back home,"_ He stared at her for a moment before extending his hand towards her, offering her help up onto the horse.  


    "Come on, Little Bird,"

      _You'll love me at once, the way you did_  
 _[o n c e  u p o n  a   d r e a m](http://youtu.be/TZ44x0GnKh4)_


End file.
